


dear god, dear slim, dear pickles the drummer

by Pearly_Pornography



Series: Pearly's Preklok Fics [30]
Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Child Abuse, Concerts, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Gross old people hitting on him, Internalized Homophobia, Internalized Misogyny, Internalized Transphobia, M/M, Pickles is a bad influence, Slurs, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, Vomiting, Willy's a dweeb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-29 11:26:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15728463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearly_Pornography/pseuds/Pearly_Pornography
Summary: William Murderface would never admit he loves something as gay as Snakes 'n Barrels.





	dear god, dear slim, dear pickles the drummer

**Author's Note:**

> i dont like the ending on this but im also tired of writing it and the direction it was goin so

"Aaand, you can open your eyes now!"

William fluttered his eyes open as his  ~~boyfriend~~ best friend Frankie handed him a paper bag. "Happy birthday, Will!"

"You got me a preschent? You didn't have to..."

"Well I did it anyway. Open it."

William nodded, reaching into the bag. A film, and a poster. He took the DVD case first.

"A copy of  _I Schpit on Your Grave_ , hot dog!" He squealed. This was like, the  _one movie_ Uncle Angus never gave him a copy of! He wasn't sure why. Regardless, he'd have to cross this one off his Christmas list next month. 

"I'm glad you like it."

"Gonna schee what thisch poschter isch..." He reached in, unrolling it, full of excitement, aaand...

_A limited edition Snakes 'n Barrels poster!_

...Wait.

"You didn't tell the shopkeep thisch wasch for me, right?"

"He didn't ask."

"Thank you scho much..." William grinned, staring at Pickles on the poster. "God, he'sch scho hot."

"I heard he's a trans-sexual."

"Nah, then he wouldn't have faschial hair. Unlessch he hasch a genetid... geneter... genetic dischorder! That'sch it."

"He's totally rubbing his crotch on this poster though."

"Woah..." William grinned, running one finger down the length of Pickles' body. "If I could be that famousch I'd be abscholutely fuckin' hyped, I'd totally losche it, I could have all the girlsch I wanted..." Frankie gave William a look. Nervously, William lowered his voice. "All... all th' boysch I want."

"You don't want boys or girls, you want the free jumbo shrimp."

"Rich people get free jumbo shrimp?! Hell yeah I want that!"

"Wanna go out for dinner tonight? My treat." Frankie lowered his voice. "I stole my dad's credit card."

"Oh, fuck yeah, dude, lesch hit the Cheeschecake Factory."

-

It had been a couple years since Frankie Hill ate it. William Murderface's Sweet 16 was rapidly approaching. There was only one thing he wanted in his stupid waste of an existence, and it was tickets to see Snakes 'n Barrels live.

He wasn't gay. Every fan of Snakes 'n Barrels was gay except for him. Just because he thought Pickles was the coolest motherfucker around didn't mean he was gay. Just because he'd had a boyfriend didn't mean he was gay. He wasn't, he never had been and he never would be. Even if he kept pictures of them in his room, and tore out their magazine spreads so he could tack them onto the wall, he wasn't gay. 

But they were so, so cool.

One time he remembered hearing Pickles say, while clearly on the coke binge of a lifetime, "don't ferget tah go tah school, keeds". So he did it. He kept going to school. At least until it began to hurt, then he took a day off and got his shit kicked in by his grandma. But he did it for Pickles' sake, because he asked, and he would rather die than make his idol upset. If he did something like that, he'd hardly deserve to live anymore.

His 16th birthday was closing in, a milestone in the human life. He had very little to show for it, and he knew he wouldn't be celebrating a lavish Sweet 16 party like some of his classmates were. Even if he did, nobody would fucking show up, aside from the neighborhood strays that Stella continuously threatened to have impounded and euthanized.

But he was desperate this year, for a birthday like no other, and there was only one thing that would satisfy him: One S'nB ticket, with backstage pass. 

They were expensive, more money than William had ever seen in one place. His family was in the shitter, living off of government support and Stella occasionally selling William's prized possessions. They skipped water bills, heating bills, and most painfully, William's college fund that his mother had been saving. He knew he'd never get the money if he didn't start working for it now, and it meant he had to get serious.

He managed to lock in a job at the pet store in the next town over. The elderly couple that ran the place said he seemed like a nice boy, and he waxed poetic about his love for animals. They were way nicer than his grandparents. Just two old people who liked animals. William figured their tiny pet shop would get fucking consumed by corporate in a few years, but they'd probably be dead by then, so it didn't matter much.

Regardless, he worked his fucking ass off. He worked extra hours. He would work so long that his whole body would ache as he scrubbed out every parrot cage, terrarium, habitat and fish tank. His head would hurt, his soles would ache, and he'd be hungry, but for the extra pay it was worth it. He'd return home late and pass out, and usually Stella would come in to interrupt his sleep and scream at him about something or other. He'd be way too exhausted to care, even if she hit him.

The birthday was coming fast. He realized this still wasn't enough.

Once he attempted to sell his body,  _only once_ , and he nearly got arrested. He told himself he'd never do it again. (This lasted only a year or two.)

There were pettier crimes he could commit for cash, anyhow.

His school was a hotbed of nasty suburban rich kids. He wasn't sure how they ended up attending school with him, but he figured that the private schools just didn't let them in. They were too stupid. But they always had money. Money, and really tasty-looking lunches. William slobbered on paste, half-starving, and had no cash to speak of, because the world wasn't fucking fair. One day he flung a fistful of paste into Elsie Jones' hair, and in the sudden excitement it caused, he snuck ten dollars from her purse.

That was his tactic. A distraction, and then, to pick their pockets, purses and backpacks. They'd notice, but nobody ever figured out it was him. Well, one time Gillian asked,

"William? Did you fucking rob me?"

and her friend, Emily, shook her head.

"He's mentally retarded, he probably doesn't know how."

William took his chances.

"Whassch rebarted?"

"See?" Emily shook her head once more. "You should quit picking on him, he doesn't know anything."

Gillian scowled, and left class in a huff. Emily tutted a bit and went after her. William smiled, with the twenty in his creased fist.

Over the next few months he'd stolen from just about everyone in his class, at least everyone who had money. People aimed suspicion at him, but usually it passed by. Generally he was either too stupid, or they didn't have enough evidence. With that and his pet store job, he finally,  _finally_ had the money for a backstage pass. He camped out in front of the venue for two days to get the pass. Nobody asked if he was 21, because they didn't really care.

He did it.

After getting his ticket, he passed out in his bedroom, his body pained and soul stained by his sins, but satisfied. The concert was in March, well before his birthday, but he didn't mind if his gift came early.

-

The class thefts died off and everyone forgot them with time. Meanwhile, the oncoming of the S'nB concert made the months of William's sophomore year fly by. He had nothing else to be excited about after all, aside from paychecks at the pet store, and he had prepared himself mentally and physically for the greatest day of his life.

He had to figure out how to get to Atlanta. He'd hitchhike, something he'd never really done before. That was the only option. Or he could use Grandma's car... But he didn't know how to drive.

_Did it matter?_

He spent the next few weeks practicing in empty lots with grandma's car. He still wasn't very good at it by March, but he figured it'd be better than walking, or worse, having to blow truckers in gas stations. There was nothing to worry about.

Hands shaking, he crammed a stolen key into the ignition on March 24th, 1994. His throat was stuffed with phlegm. He was afraid, he was so very, very afraid, but more than that, he was excited. The terror sent adrenaline blasting through his body. He swerved through the street, afraid of nothing and nobody. For the first time in 16 years, by god, he felt alive as he buzzed over potholes, nearly running over sweet old ladies and deer as he did, functioning on pure intuition and following the city lights in the distance.

He'd left early enough to allot time for fuck-ups, and managed to show up at the venue on time, showing off his backstage pass like a peacock fluffing itself.

Being small, skinny and fearless, he forcibly wormed his way past the crowds of people.

S'nB wasn't on yet, but he was already being pierced by the happiness their music brought him as their opening act played, some shitty small band with all girls. That's stupid, everyone knows girls can't play hardcore music. The lead was cute though. William tried desperately to imagine her naked, and came up empty-headed. 

"And that was  _Relentless Fever_. Now coming on, you know them, you love them," The announcer built up, "here comes everyone's favorite glam rock band,  _Snakes! And! BARRELLLLLS!_ "

"It'sch Schnakesch  _'N_ Barrelsch you retard!"

The announcer neglected to answer William, probably because he was embarrassed he'd fucked up that badly in front of so many people. They all came on, one by one.

"How're yeh doin' t'night folks."

Raucous applause. Pickles looked even better in person. William felt his heart catch in his throat, like he was gonna vomit. "We're Snakes 'n Barrels, eh... I've been really high the past three days so I'unno how good this's gunna sound, but yanno. Ya win some ya lose some."

"You've been high longer than the past three days." Antonio quipped, eliciting laughter from the audience.

"Oops, is that true? I guess I wouldn't remember because I was high." More laughter.  _They were so funny! And so cool!_

"Alright, then," Sammy Twinskins clapped his drumsticks together. "let's move into  _Water Horsey Blues_ , as soon as the  _FIRE CANNONS_ are hooked up."

Fire cannons! They had cannons of fire! Real pyrotechnics! William grinned as the four waited on their production people to get their shit together. William felt a tap on his shoulder, turning around suddenly to two faces he'd never seen before. A guy and a lady.

"Hey there fella," the lady said, "you seem excited."

"No shit! It'sch fucking Schnakesch 'n Barrelsch!"

"You look a little young to be here." The guy said.

"Fuck you."

"I'm not gonna rat you out, I'm just asking if you want  _me_ to buy  _you_ a drink."

" _Us,_ ", the lady punched the guy in his shoulder. William nodded. A drink in hand makes everything better, after all. "What can we get you, cute thing?" William blushed a bit. This woman just called him cute. Nobody  _ever_ called him cute. It felt good.

"Uh, ah, uh, what... do you recommend?"

"Everclear it is!" The guy laughed until the lady punched him once more, this time a little harder. "Ow!"

"I recommend a good old-fashioned  _sex on the beach_."

"Schecksch on the beach." He nodded. "Okay, get me that."

The couple grinned at each other and nodded. He had no fucking idea what 'sex on the beach' was, but it was named after an act most people dreamed of performing, so why the hell not. He stared back at the stage, which was nearing readiness.

"Alright, I fink we're good." Antonio nodded, and began plunking at his bass guitar. Pickles squeezed his eyes tight, clutching the mic close to his lips. Snazz bullets began playing the opening riffs to  _Water Horsey Blues_ , and it all kicked into high gear. Lights, camera, action. Fire launched from the cylindrical machines on the sides, and everyone clapped. Pickles' voice came through the speakers, and it beat the living shit out of William's very soul.

Everyone was singing along. Even William croaked alongside the glam rock gods, his throat straining to make his voice the loudest. His hands trembled and launched into applause, Pickles contorted his body in ways William never knew possible. His heart thudded in his chest. Another tap brought him back to reality for a short moment. The guy and the lady were back, and passed him his drink.

" _THANK YOU!_ "

It was impossible to hear him over the noise.

He took a sip-- Ack! It was bitter! He wrinkled his nose. He was still determined to finish it and get his buzz going, mostly because it was free. Nothing that's free can ever truly be bad. The second song felt just as good as the first.  _Harpsichord_ , one written by Antonio while on a cocaine binge. People complained because it lacked any harpsichord in it, but William hardly knew what a harpsichord was, so he had no reason to be angry. It'd probably ruin their pure sound.

By the third song,  _Sexy Cat Lady_ , William felt a bit weird. It was probably just the booze. He'd damn near finished it by now. Furthermore,  _Sexy Cat Lady_ was a fucking masterpiece, detailing a fling Pickles had with a 40something year old MILF who had like, twenty cats.  _Claws on my back and through the door / She's asking me to give her more / I love her bare-naked TLC / and the feeling of her brushed kitty_. High fucking art right there.

His head began to swim (no pun intended) as they began to discuss the lore of their third album  _Black Ocean Charm_ , telling the story of its protagonist, Jesse Black, who was captured by a mermaid. This transitioned into the first song off of that album,  _Aquaria_. William wasn't feeling so hot. He grasped at the railing surrounding the stage.

_Aquaria my love / sent by the stars below or above_

He hunched over, feeling a weight crashing in his skull. 

_Aquaria you're the one / for me, for me_

His stomach turned over. He felt so heavy.

"Hey kiddo, you okay?"

William could almost hear the guy above the noise. 

"Diyyou puh' schommin in muh drink...?"

He tried to make words, his mouth felt like it was stuffed full of cotton balls and he couldn't close it all the way. He vomited all over himself, watery bile entirely. He weakly slapped when the lady reached for him. He felt like the music stopped...

"Hey!"

That voice sounded familiar. Was it... "Hey kid, yeh doin' alreet?"

"Nhho."

"He's fine," The guy said, "we know him. He's just hammered."

"Nooo..."

"He looks more than hammered." Pickles cut in. "Hold ahn a sec..."

Pickles dropped down from the stage suddenly, holding out an arm to William. "C'mahn. I ain't gonna hurt'cha." Was it a guardian angel? William latched on and pressed his face into the sweat-covered surface of Pickles' skin. He was so warm.

"Can we end this early?" Pickles mumbled. "This kid looks like, fuckin', 12 or some sheet."

"I think he's been roofied, mate." Antonio spoke in a hushed voice. Pickles frowned.

"Alreet, cahncert's over, everyone getta fuck outta here!"

The crowd shouted in dismay, but eventually dispersed by the time Pickles began throwing beer bottles at them. "I said GET AHTTA HERE!" At that point, William was beginning to lose consciousness. He was seeing stars. His head hurt so much. 

He nuzzled his face into Pickles' chest, and shut his eyes.

-

William opened his eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling, and an unfamiliar bed. He was naked as shit. What fucking time was it... Where was he?

Prying open a set of curtains, he squinted.  _It was morning. He was still at the bar from last night._

"Motherfucker." 

He attempted to run, but his head was still killing him. He had to be just outside, in some kind of bus. Desperately he tried to recount what had happened. Was he raped? Did he get drugged by a hot babe? Somehow, it didn't feel so good...

Wrapping himself in bedsheets, he attempted to feel his way up the length of the bus. It smelled good. Like eggs and bacon. His stomach growled. He hadn't eaten substantially in awhile. His footsteps were shaky and his limbs ached. He was so cold and scared and he smelled funny.

He locked eyes with the lead guitarist of Snakes 'n Barrels. His body went deathly still.

"Hey _mom._ " Sammy snorted. "Your son is out of bed."

"Wha? Oh!" Pickles turned. "Oh shit, I almost forgaht! Hi, uh..."

"Whadda fuck," William blinked. Was he still sleeping? What the fuck was going on. 

"Yeh gaht roofied at th' cahncert last night, so we cancelled. We can give yeh yer money back."

"I..."

William felt like the air was leaving his lungs.

"Hey kid, how much you fuck?" Sammy snorted. Pickles stepped on his foot. "Ow, fuck! Chill your steeze, dude."

"He's like, eight, dood."

"I'm- I'm schickschteen!" He lied, as he'd be 16 in a month anyway. Apparently it didn't make much of a difference in the eyes of S'nB.

"Hell you were doing at a bar? How'd they even let you buy the ticket?" Snazz rose a brow, resting one cheek in his hand. "That's gotta be illegal or something. Do you remember what they looked like, we didn't call the cops because we have like, forty pounds of cocaine under the couch cushions in here."

"Uh." William rubbed his temple with one hand, covering himself with his bedsheet in the other. "One wasch a lady and one wasch a guy. 'sch all I know."

"I don't feel like this was necessary to begin with. I mean, probably like, eight other people got drugged there." 

"Snizzy. Shuttup." Pickles squinted at the older man, then turning his gaze back to William. "Yer clothes got puke on 'em, they should be in the bathroom drying, whenever yer ready. Want some bacon? I made it myself."

"Gay!" Sammy shouted, punching Pickles in the shoulder. "That's so gay, dude."

"YER gay!"

"I uh," William coughed. Spit lodged in his throat. "I don't really wanna, uh, encroach or anyfin'."

"Yer naht encroachin'. Can you drive yerself back?" William sat down between Sammy and Pickles. They were both big personalities. Too big for him to compete with. This was terrifying, and yet, the smell of cigarettes on Pickles' bathrobe was comforting as anything else. "Here, y'like eggs?"

"Yuh." William rubbed the back of his neck. "I, uh, I mean, I don't have a lischensche..."

"Why do you sound like you're eating cotton balls?"

" _Sammy! Shut yer feckin' mouth!_ "

"Sorry, mom."

"How did you get here w'out a license, mate." Antonio was finally speaking up, dumping Jack Daniels into his coffee.

"I almoscht crashed like eight timesch I guessch."

" _Killer, dude._ " Sammy grinned. Pickles glared at him.

"Don't feckin' encourage tiny babies t' drive."

"Tha' is pretty cool, I wish I could'a done that." Antonio shrugged. Pickles wrinkled his nose.

"We're naht being respahnsible for an infant car crash.

"I'm not a fucking baby, quit it." William crossed his arms.

"Yer right, we're jest old. Especially Snazz."

"Yeah--  _wait, hold on._ "

"Eat yer breakfast and I'll drive yeh home, where d'ya live?"

"Perry."

"Hoooly shit, what the  _gahd damn_ is Perry."

"Pretty schmall plasche." William paused. He was dozing off a little bit. "...I juscht wanna nap."

"'s fine."

"Schign my shortsch."

"...Whet?"

"Can you... or, or schomefin, I dunno."

"I can do like. A sheet of paper."

"Okay, thasch fine..."

William shut his eyes, leaning on Pickles' shoulder.

"You're gonna let him sleep on top of you?" Sammy spoke in a hushed voice.

" _Yes I'm gonna fuck'n let 'im sleep on me, he's fuck'n sleepy. Shut up._ "

Some kind of fever dream, probably. So long as it lasted, William would be satisfied.


End file.
